See You in Hel
by Pizzachu
Summary: Loki died fighting the dark elves, but death's not necessarily the end for a god. True to his words to the dark elf who killed him, Loki will see Algrim/Kurse in Hel. When Hel becomes Hell, the god of lies seeks a way back to Asgard. Loki makes a bargain with Hela, queen of the dead, but it would seem the trickster's been tricked. This deal may not be what he wanted after all...
1. Welcome to Hel

Loki's been to Hel before. So there's no reason he should be nervous now, right?

If only...

The God of Mischief had been alive the last time he was here. Shrouded in his magic, he had nothing to fear.

But now... Now it's a different story altogether.

As a spirit of the dead in Hel, Loki has no magic lest the goddess of the dead wishes so. And why would Hela want him to? He didn't serve her. He may be confined to her kingdom of death, but he had no wish to be a slave of the queen of the dead.

In Hel, the spirits who do not choose to serve Hela directly are left to wander the land freely so long as they do not create trouble for their mistress. Many settle and create new "lives" for themselves in Hel. But to the contrary, there are many more who travel the land, seeking those who have done them wrong or simply causing trouble in death as they did in life.

Loki knows it would be in his best interests to keep moving, never stay one place too long, and not attract any attention to himself. The trickster has many enemies in Hel. That wouldn't have bothered him most days, but now... he is stranded without his magic. If he is attacked, he is without his best means of defending himself, and what's worse... He can't die again. Someone could torture and beat him for eternity, and Loki would never be able to escape the pain even through death... Needless to say, the god of mischief better hope no former enemies come his way. He never even considered going to Hela for protection. While he was living, Loki had been on something-less-than-friendly terms with the queen of the dead. And now that he was one of her subjects... It was better to risk it on his own than dare to find out if she still held a grudge against him.

So, Loki keeps to the shadows.

He keeps to the darkest corners of Hela's domain and more or less minds his own business. The trickster has abandoned his former wardrobe of bright greens and gold for a more inconspicuous black.

He'd been lucky so far. No one had recognized him yet. He'd been able to stay in small communities on occasion, though he was careful not to stay too long.

But lately, Loki had been hearing whispers of someone terrible tearing his way through the countryside, seeking something or someone. He terrorizes the simple folk who can't fight back and leaves communities such as this in ruins. They say he's causing so much trouble that, if he doesn't find what he's looking for soon, Hela herself may be forced to intervene.

Loki weaves his way through the crowd of people, careful to keep the hood of his cloak well over his face. With this menace coming through, he, like many others, are finding it time to head out on his own again. But he needs a weapon, or some sort of defense, before he leaves. The trickster is quick on his feet and can create the most fantastical lie in the blink of an eye, but he needs a backup plan for the dreaded day that these gifts can no longer save him. But weapons are hard to come by out here. What use have the dead for tools of death? Perhaps for decoration or sport in the great cities of Hela's loyal subjects, but out here the people are poor. Refusing to subject themselves to the goddesses rule any more than they must, they are left to fend for themselves with the nothing they have. Inessential luxuries are rare.

But for someone with as many enemies as the god of lies, a weapon is essential, even in death. Loki has the sinking feeling his need grows greater with every passing moment. Whatever this menace terrorizing the spirits is... It's after him. Call it intuition, but Loki knows his luck is rapidly running out.

The trickster slips inside a small store on the outskirts of the shabby town. The sad building is composed of dull grey stones piled one atop the other, the same as every other construct in the hopeless little community. However, here the stone is cracked and crumbling, giving the trickster reasonable concern that the walls may give way and crush him at any time. There is a solitary man seated on the far side of the room behind a table much too large for such limited space. The man looks up from a book (another rarity in these parts) as Loki enters the shop. The salesman flashes a smile so sparkling and false it may very well have been worthy of the trickster god himself.

Loki nods in turn, but is careful not to allow his hood to reveal anything of his face in the process.

"Welcome, good sir. I do say you look like a chap who could make use of some of my fine wares."

"Do I?"

If the salesman found Loki's response odd, he didn't let on. Rather, he tiptoes around his over-sized desk and moved to stand in front of his mysterious valued customer. After all, with a frivolous business like his around here, every customer is a valued customer, as they are few and far between. "Perhaps I can interest you in some new clothes I have the finest fabric for sale in a hundred miles!" What the salesman does not mention is that he also likely has the only fabric for sale in a hundred miles. Garish smile never wavering, the salesman starts running his fingers over the array of fabrics hanging form a nearby rack. Seeing one he likes, he pulls it off the display and waves it at Loki. "How 'bout something in red? You look like a fellow who wore a lot of red when you were alive!"

Loki laughs, a sound harsh enough to trip up even this man's sales pitch. "Not hardly. Red is more my brother's style." The salesman tries to recover, but the god of lies cuts him off. "Besides, I have no interest in your clothes. I seek something with a bit more substance."

"Ah, of course. How silly of me. This way." The man leads Loki a whole three feet to his left and stops in front of a crate almost half his size. Lifting the lid, the salesman plucks out something the trickster god hasn't seen since long even before his death - a single strawberry. Decent food is hard to find, and a piece of fruit as fresh and delicious-looking as that strawberry is a treasure indeed. Loki has to remind himself he's here for a reason though, and that reason is certainly not a strawberry!

Scowling at his own moment of weakness, Loki shakes hes head at the salesman. "I have more important things to worry about than your food." The motion causes the trickster's hood to slip back from his face a little ways, without his noticing.

"One of them more extravagant blokes are ya? I got just the thing!" The salesman rushes across the room to another box and eagerly beckons Loki over to it. Once his picky but ever-so-valued customer is at his side, he flips open the box with such show that he clearly just knows the box contains exactly what Loki wants.

Only... it doesn't.

Inside the box are a few pieces of cheap looking jewelry, some no doubt fake gems, and an abundance of what appears to be blackened pennies.

Loki curses under his breath and, overcome by impatience and irritation, flips back his hood to cast the salesman a look that in life would have turned his blood to lice. The salesman's eyes grow wide, and his mouth drops open. He stammers something unintelligible as he finally realizes who his customer is. But only a few seconds later, the salesman composes himself and almost successfully masks hi fear, almost. Impressive.

"I-" The salesman clears his throat and forces his voice to stop shaking. "You should have started with that. Come with me."

Not even trying to hide an irritated sigh, Loki follows the salesman around the over-sized desk and into an even smaller backroom. Here there are a few boxes and crates scattered haphazardly on the floor, with no remote semblance of order or care. The salesman picks his way through the tiny room as if he is walking in a room full of the finest treasures. He kneels in the floor next to a couple of boxes about the length of his forearm. The salesman stacks them with a gentleness completely out of place in this train-wreck of a storeroom. Lifting the boxes as if they are made of fine glass, the salesman presents them before the trickster god.

Having lost all patience for this fool's exaggerated show, Loki opened the top box himself rather than waiting a hour for the salesman to get around to doing it. He ignores the somewhat offended salesman's reproachful glare as he lifts the contents free of the box.

No sooner than light hits metal, the flimsy shop is hit by a violent tremor. The salesman lets out a high-pitched scream as the whole right wall collapses in on them.

Loki coughs, his lungs filled with coarse dust from the shattered stones. He's half-buried in stone from the wall and boxes that had been hurled from the floor. Pain shoots up through the trickster's leg as he dazedly tries to pull himself free. He is vaguely aware of something sort of heavy in his right hand.

A shadow falls over the trickster god, and he looks up groggily. And what he sees instantly jerks him back to his senses. Towering over him, is Kurse.

Loki begins frantically trying to pull himself free of the rubble. The trickster rapidly looks around for anything that might help him, and only now does he remember what that wight in his hand is... The dagger is covered in dust and pieces of crushed rock, but it shines like the sun to the desperate god. Loki lifts the blade from the rubble and holds it in what he hopes is a threatening fashion.

Kurse laughs, low and rattling. Death had been kind to him. A being of strength, Algrim the Strong had kept his might even now.

Loki's luck... magic is gone, but brute strength remains...

Kurse thuds over the toppled stones.

Forgotten, and thus relatively safe until now, the flamboyant salesman lets out another blood curdling scream. He lies trapped up to his shoulders in rubble, only a few feet form where Kurse now stands.

The menace scowls and looks at the source of the insufferable noise. Covering the distance in only two steps, Kurse looms over the pinned salesman, who only begins screaming louder, if that's even possible. With a bestial roar, Kurse stomps his foot down on the salesman's head, effectively silencing him.

Loki flinches away from the gruesome sight. Taking advantage of Kurse's momentary distraction, the trickster finally kicks his way free of the wreckage. Still experiencing a sharp pain in one of his legs, he struggles to get his feet underneath him. Before rising to his feet, Loki flicks open the box nearest him, and is pleased to find the other dagger the salesman had been planning to sell him. Staggering to his feet, the trickster faces the dark elf who has already killed him once before.

Kurse again looks to his prey. He towers over Loki, clearly the stronger and tougher of the two. The monstrous dark elf bears no weapon, but it's clear he doesn't need one to be considered a threat. His own strength is weapon enough.

The two opponents circle each other in the ruins of the crumbled stone, each already proven to be the other's murderer. The air is thick with tension and alive with hatred.

Kurse makes the first move. Charging at Loki, the dark elf lets out an earthshaking bellow. The trickster dives to his left, and the great dark elf skids past him. Turning back to his prey, Kurse raises both his arms high overhead and lunges at Loki. The menace's fists slam down at the trickster with bone-crushing force.

Loki sidesteps and slashes at Kurse's exposed midsection with his daggers. The fine blades leave deep gashes in the dark elf's armor, but show no sign of inflicting injury.

Having missed his mark yet again, Kurse shouts in anger and swings his arm to the side. The blow catches Loki in the chest, sending the trickster hurtling towards the wall. The weak stone flies apart from the force with which the trickster collides with it. Loki collides with the salesman's over-sized table, his back arching painfully against the unyielding stone. Before the trickster can even slip to the floor, Kurse is over him again. The dark elf grasps the trickster's neck and keeps him pinned at the awkward angle against the table. "It is a good thing you cannot die again." Kurse's face is distorted by what Loki can only figure to be a smile, a cruel sadistic smile.

Loki slashes up at Kurse's crushing arm with one of his daggers. The dark elf lets out an enraged cry of pain as the blade cuts deep into his flesh. Kurse hastily backs away, allowing Loki to fall to the floor gasping for breath. The trickster continues to crouch on the floor for a moment, the world seeming to spin and fade around him. He blinks hard and forces himself to remain conscious. If he passes out now, he can only pray he never wakes up.

The world more or less stabilizing, Loki uses his low position to his advantage. He slashes at weak places in Kurse's leg armor. The first attack scrapes harmlessly across the material, but the second strikes home, leaving a bloody gash in the dark elf's calf.

But the pain only fuels Kurse's rage, and in turn his strength. He kicks Loki, unleashing all of his hate-fueled power. The attack catches the trickster's neck, snapping his head back with incredible force.

Loki's head bashes against the unforgiving table with enough power to crack the hard stone. He collapses to the floor, lying in a puddle of his own blood. The world swims about him before finally going dark. The last thing the trickster sees is Kurse looming over him, smiling.


	2. Kurse's New Toy

The world is pain. Dark and bitter. Loki wakes to an unbearable pain in the back of his head and neck. He can't tell if his eyes are open or closed. His world is black. Breathing is difficult. The trickster is careful not to move for fear of finding himself unable.

Then he hears a sound that echoes around in his skull, threatening to tear him apart. His captor is laughing at him. Kurse's voice is like sandpaper being run over Loki's burning brain. "So you are awake then." Pain like fire shoots into the trickster's side, causing him to cry out. The pain dulls as Kurse pulls the dagger back out of Loki's side.

The trickster's breath is scarce and ragged. He wills himself to lose consciousness again, to buy himself just a little more time before he must endure the unending torture Kurse no doubt has in store for him. But Loki's luck has run out... He remains fully conscious, painfully aware, and absolutely helpless. He lies on his back on the now-cracked stone desk, bound by something stronger than he. His own blood pools around him. But what scares the trickster the most, he cannot see his tormentor. Whether from some act of Kurse's, the kick to his neck, or his skull being split open from impact with the table... Loki's vision is gone. All he can do is listen to his tormentor and brace for the pain he knows is coming. And Kurse has eternity to play with his new toy. The perks of already being dead... You can't die again. If you're injured, you'll heal. It may take what feels like forever spent in excruciating pain, but eventually... You'll heal. Loki's awful wounds will heal, just so Kurse can create new ones.

Interrupting his fevered thoughts, Kurse stabs the blade into the trickster's shoulder. Loki cries out in pain again, but Kurse isn't satisfied this time. He makes a dismissive sound, and Loki can hear his heavy footsteps moving away from him. "You're already too weak. Perhaps you'll be more amusing once your mind has come back together enough to process your situation."

Loki fades in and out of consciousness. Never able to truly rest due to the ever-present pain caused by the dagger Kurse left in his shoulder. The pain in his head lessens, but only slightly, alleviating so slowly the trickster wonders if he is only imagining it. Anytime Loki seems to finally be able to catch his breath, Kurse returns to twist the knife.

After three days, Loki's injuries have healed enough that he is aware of every single second of his tortured existence. He regains consciousness and does not lose it again, no matter how much he wishes he did. He can't sleep because of the intense pain. There is no escape for the god of mischief.

Kurse notices the change in his prisoner instantly. It would seem his new toy is finally ready to be played with.

Loki spends the next four days in Hell. Kurse doesn't give him even a minutes respite. By the end of the week, the trickster is once again reduced to an injured bloody mess. Kurse is clearly pleased with his work. He leans over the god of mischief, his cruel eyes glaring down into Loki's feverish ones. "If we weren't already dead, I bet you would be dying right now. Pathetic." A terrible smile spreads across the monstrous dark elf's face, a sight Loki had long since learned to fear. "But isn't it fortunate? We don't have to worry about that now. We have forever to play." Kurse's laughter echoes around the desolate land. By now, Kurse has leveled the entire community, as he already has wreaked havoc on the shop in which he is keeping Loki. "But for now, you seem to be nearing your limits for maintaining awareness again. Perhaps it's about time I leave you for a few days again. But first..."

Kurse presses the blade of the dagger to Loki's throat. A few drops of blood trickle down the trickster's neck. Loki's breath catches in his throat, and he tries to flinch away from the dagger's edge.

"One would think you were afraid of dying, the way you avoid the blade." Kurse laughs as he presses harder with the dagger, creating a steady stream of Loki's blood. If Kurse is to cut Loki's throat, the trickster may not be able to die, but the wound would leave unable to breath for days, and it's hard telling what the loss of blood to his brain might do to him. He's in bad enough shape already. He still has not regained his sight. He's finding it harder and harder for Loki to remember a time when he wasn't in agony. The last shreds of the trickster's hope is slipping away...

So, he does something desperate.

Loki lunges at Kurse with all the strength he can muster. Fueled by pure desperation, the trickster slams his forehead into Kurse's face. Blood erupts from the dark elf's clearly broken nose. He stumbles back, shocked by his weak prisoner's sudden burst of strength. Loki struggles to breath as blood pours from the deep cut across his neck. But he's not going to let that stop him now. This may be the best chance at escape he's ever going to get.

Loki's heart skips a beat as he realizes how lucky he is right now. In his alarm, Kurse had dropped the dagger. It now lay just inches from the trickster's hand. Loki reaches for the dagger. The strange fabric binding him to the table cuts into his wrist as he tries and tries to reach the dagger. He finally manages to flick it with his fingers, flipping it around so that he can almost reach it to get his hand around it. But Kurse is recovering, and he doesn't look happy about this little turn of events.

The trickster gets hold of the dagger and makes awkward slashing motions at the fabric. Kurse reaches for the blade, ready to slice the little wretch to bits. Just as Kurse's hand approaches the dagger, the strange fabric snaps, and the blade flies up, cutting through the dark elf's hand. Kurse roars in pain as his fingers bounce off the table and into the floor. Not wasting a second, Loki springs up and stabs the blade at Kurse's chest. The dark elf lets out a strangled groan as the blade pierces his heart. "You forget, weakling. You have already killed me once. I cannot be killed again. Your pathetic tricks will not save you."

Kurse takes a swing at his escaping prisoner. The dark elf's great fist clubs the trickster over the head, rattling the trickster's already muddled brain. Loki tumbles back onto the table, the world spinning like a top around him. Kurse grabs the trickster's arm in a vice-like grip, trying to force him to drop the dagger. But even in his confusion, Loki holds on to the blade for dear life. "No!" Loki kicks at the dark elf as hard as he can. As weak as Loki is right now, the move is still enough to knock Kurse off-balance. The trickster shoves the dark elf off of him and, throwing all his weight at him, tackles Kurse to the ground. Before the menace has a chance to fight the trickster off, Loki stabs the dagger down into the dark elf's head. Kurse seems to freeze in place for a moment, and Loki stabs again. The dark elf goes limp on the floor. "No, but now it's your turn to see how it feels to be comatose for a while." Loki stabs again, and again, and again.

When every ounce of his energy is spent, Loki falls back onto the floor. He sits shaking on the blood-soaked ground for longer than he cares to know. Loki stares into nothingness, his hate and pain has gone with his strength. He's numb to the world.

Rain begins to fall from the midnight sky, startling Loki out of his stupor. He looks up into the sky and allows the cool water to wash to blood and fever from him.

As much as Loki wishes he could just lie down and rest, and finally get to recover, he knows he can't. Kurse won't stay out of it forever, and the trickster doesn't really fancy still hanging around when the menace wakes up. So, Loki forces himself onto his hands and knees. Still unable to see, he feels his way back to Kurse's face, where the dagger still protrudes from his skull. The trickster pulls the dagger free and wipes the blood on the dark elf's armor. He feels his way down to Kurse's side, hoping to find the second dagger. Sure enough, the dagger is tucked into the dark elf's belt. Loki slips it free and places it in his own belt, along with the other. He braces himself on the table and drags himself to his feet.

Only vaguely aware of where he is or what way he's even facing, the trickster picks a direction and starts walking. Surely he'll either regain his sight or wander to the right place eventually...


End file.
